


Lord Aurignac

by Jerevinan



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alvin's past, Creepy Auri, Espionage, Threats of Bodily Harm, Unwanted Advances, intent to commit nonconsensual acts that don't happen, side materials compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Alvin knew two things upon entering the Travis manor: he needed a reason to stay, and he couldn’t leave until the found physical evidence of correspondence between Houses Travis and Banya. If Gilland obtained enough information to put them in poor favor with King Nachtigal, it would give him better standing and influence.Rumors among the nobility suggested the oldest Travis son, Lord Aurignac, often had an indiscriminate eye for any lovely face.Enter: AlvinI endorse reading fics on AO3's website, not a cash-grabbing app





	Lord Aurignac

**Author's Note:**

> [Yume translated some of the Alvin Chronicle](https://yume-x-hanabi.tumblr.com/post/187417611584/excerpt-from-alvin-chronicle-2), and we were discussing how the storytelling falls short. The original style is rough to read, and it feels flat, relying on telling details rather than showing any. I mentioned I’d love to rewrite it, in fic form, and this is the result. 
> 
> Several liberties have been taken: details are meant to stick as close to canon as possible, with few deviations for storytelling purposes. Alvin is portrayed as bisexual here, because Aurignac is awful bisexual representation. He’s a creeper and an asshole. Agria did the world a favor when she killed him, didn’t she?
> 
> This is marked "underage" because Alvin is 14, and Aurignac is implied to be a young adult (we guessed at maybe 18?). They are **not** being shipped here.
> 
> Shout out to Yume for her help on this!

Alvin knew two things upon entering the Travis manor: he needed a reason to stay, and he couldn’t leave until the found physical evidence of correspondence between Houses Travis and Banya. If Gilland obtained enough information to put them in poor favor with King Nachtigal, it would give him better standing and influence. 

Rumors among the nobility suggested the oldest Travis son, Lord Aurignac, often had an indiscriminate eye for any lovely face. Alvin’s height might have allowed him to pass for a little older, but his voice still cracked from puberty. None of this mattered, anyway; Aurignac had little interest in paying attention to these particular details. Given his position as acting head of household, it made him the sole target of Gilland’s operation. 

Under the name Julio, Alvin applied for a job as one of the house staff. It started off simple enough, being the Travis household errand boy—watering the lumen trees, running to the grocers for the cook, and other odd jobs. With added practice, he memorized Aurignac’s daily patterns, and purposely put himself in the oldest Travis son’s line of sight. If Aurignac took his supper late, Alvin loitered near the dining room, pretending to be waiting on an order from the kitchens. Whenever Aurignac made plans to leave the household, Alvin found himself conveniently near the carriage house.

Each time, Alvin made sure to bow and smile. The look the older teen returned to him made his skin crawl. Practice at espionage had made Alvin something of an expert at feigning interest and steeling his real feelings, and he never let Aurignac know what he truly thought of him.

Within two weeks, the head of staff informed Alvin he would be Aurignac’s personal valet. 

The first morning after his promotion, Alvin brushed Aurignac’s jacket and helped him put it on. While smoothing it out over his shoulders, Aurignac placed a hand over Alvin’s as if to offer warm affection.

“Julio,” he said, the word rolling off his tongue with momentum guided by lust. 

The name did not belong to Alvin any more than “Alvin” did, but Alfred had died anywhere but in his mother’s memory. And with the same care, soon the alias “Julio” would wither away alongside it. 

“Lord Aurignac,” replied Alvin, faking a warmth that convinced and pleased its receiver.

“Oh, Julio, you are a brilliant young man. Have you been a valet before?”

“No, My Lord.” A flash of the past invaded Alvin before he quickly cast it away: a small boy, swinging his legs on his father’s bed, while the head of the Svent household was attended to by his personal valet.

“You’re very good at this. I might promote you further, if you continue to please me.” 

Only on the lips of Gilland had a promotion sounded as slimy. 

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Go on now, fetch my shoes.”

It was only with a quick reflex that Alvin was able to skip out of the way before the anticipated pinch on his backside. Aurignac pretended instead to reach for a drawer set at the same height, fumbling around while he watched Alvin disappear into the closet. Alvin regarded his employer’s foolish recovery out of the corner of his eye as he hastened his pace.

~*~

The advances continued, and Alvin had no choice but to permit them. If it kept him in Aurignac’s good grace, he could handle the rubbing of the man’s knuckles on his arm, the feel of his finger tracing across his lips. 

Alvin played it off with a flirtatious smile, and his growing “closeness” to Aurignac allowed for him to drop formal speech and honorifics when they were alone. Not to say that it didn’t thrill Aurignac to hear himself formally addressed, and in an almost asinine attempt to flatter him further, Alvin once used “Master Aurignac”. It had the expected result. 

Aurignac liked to think of Julio as a toy, but it was only Aurignac who had been played with. Every stopped advance came with an excuse. Alvin would bend over and “find” something dropped on the floor if Aurignac reached for a kiss. Alvin kept lint in his pocket to place on Aurignac’s jacket, and whenever they were too physically close, he would exclaim that his lord was unpresentable and rush off to fetch the brush. 

This only convinced Aurignac that his valet offered tiny morsels because Julio was just that much of a treat. 

“You’re such a naughty thing,” said Aurignac one night as Alvin combed through his hair. 

“Isn’t that what you love so much about me?” Alvin grinned at him through the mirror and dipped his gaze back down to the locks between his fingers before he caught sight of Aurignac’s expression. 

“Oh yes, but I shall enjoy taming you.”

Alvin didn’t know how to respond. The Travis children were cruel, and Celedonio couldn’t have been the first of the four siblings to enjoy tearing the wings off insects or kicking out at one of the hounds in the yard. Alvin would not fall prey to the oldest of the household before he obtained the needed evidence and made his escape from Lalla Travis.

~*~

The upstairs hall had been vacant for some time, and Aurignac chanced upon Alvin snooping in the library. Aurignac appeared to be tipsy, and it was no secret among the household staff that he often helped himself to the family’s collection of spirits. Each time he reached for Alvin, he stumbled forward, fingers swiping at the air instead. Alvin didn’t even need to step out of the way to make him look like a fool.

“You’re quite drunk, My Lord,” said Alvin, and the amusement he felt at watching Aurignac fumble was genuine.

“Do come closer, Julio. Let us make the most of tonight.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

Aurignac smirked, and even the liquor couldn’t peel the edge off his cruelty. “Let the hunt begin.”

Alvin made a show of stepping out of Aurignac’s way several times, letting out little laughs when his pursuer failed. To keep Aurignac interested and prevent Alvin from souring his affections toward Julio, he occasionally brushed his fingers against the older teen’s shoulders or blew him a kiss. 

“You tease,” said Aurignac after some time, a hint of anger tinting his words. 

Alvin dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m sorry, Master Aurignac.”

That softened Aurignac. “You must make it up to me.”

“Give me ten minutes, I have the perfect hiding spot for us,” said Alvin, winking with the barest hint of a smile. “Close your eyes and count to a hundred?”

Aurignac licked his lips, which were curled upward. Even if Alvin could stomach sleeping with him, he didn’t trust Aurignac to be kind or gentle. No matter what Gilland wanted, Alvin practiced self-preservation. All he needed was a little more time to find incriminating evidence. 

“Can I have a hint?” Aurignac reached for him, and with a slight spin, Alvin moved out of the way before their skin could come in contact.

“Oh, not so fast.” Alvin winked again and gave a little bow forward. “You have to earn your reward.”

“I intend to.”

“Close your eyes. Count to a hundred.”

Aurignac obeyed this time. By the time he reached “four”, Alvin had softly clicked close the door to the library. The study was right across the hall, but there wouldn’t be time enough to snoop around inside there next before Aurignac came looking. Any possible evidence would most certainly be sealed somewhere inside one of these rooms—if it existed at all. Was Aurignac clever enough to burn all letters proving his relationship with House Banya?

Despite Alvin’s teases of a “hiding spot” in the Travis manor, he did not intend to stay. The carpet hushed his careful footfalls, and none of the other family members or servants appeared to be upstairs. The best way to make his escape was through a window on the upper floor. He had left Aurignac in something of a riled state, but with any luck, he would be too drunk that night to remember by morning.

Alvin climbed out the window and made his way to the inn for the night. It hadn’t been the first time he needed to escape the Travis estate, and it would not be the last.

~*~

Alvin’s time to leave the manor came unexpectedly one night, while lying in Aurignac’s bed. His heart thumped in his chest as he rested over the covers, still as an animal playing dead. That evening, Aurignac requested Alvin stay in his rooms and follow him to bed. Refusal would have made the charade over the past few weeks too obvious, and Alvin went with an outward show of trepidation.

“I’ll make your first time gentle,” said Aurignac, tracing his fingers across Alvin’s cheekbone. 

It was not Alvin’s first time, but it was Julio’s, and Alvin shifted his gaze, head lowered, and played the part of the innocent youth on the cusp of manhood.

“Make yourself comfortable in bed. I’ll be there shortly.” Aurignac guided Alvin over to the bed and let him sit down. 

Alvin took off his boots but did not undress further. A cool breeze trickled into the room, and Alvin thought of covering up beneath the warmth of the bedding, but he needed to run—possibly for his life, and into the wrath of his uncle for failing his mission. Could he sleep with Aurignac, if it came to that? It didn’t have anything to do with men or women. Alvin certainly preferred the latter, but he had no objection to the former, either, provided they were attractive. Aurignac was by no means bad looking, but his sinister nature marred what might have otherwise been a conventional face.

A tap at the window interrupted Aurignac’s preparation in his bathroom. He stepped out, still fully clothed, and took the correspondence from a sylphjay, and within a few minutes, cast the letter into the fire. 

“Julio, we must resume another evening,” said Aurignac, leaning into the mantle with both palms gripped tightly along the ledge. There was a strain of fury and disappointment lacing his voice. “I’m quite tired.”

_More like you have a secret letter to pen,_ thought Alvin.

Alvin sagged his shoulders. “But My Lord...”

“Go. Now.” Aurignac would not look at him. Perhaps he feared the distraction Alvin brought and did not want to wait until morning to write his response. 

Alvin did not look at the sylphjay for fear she would recognize him and approach. He had befriended her over the weeks, slipping into the aviary until she warmed to him enough to allow him access to the letters she carried.

One would definitely be sent that night. Alvin had a good feeling in his gut about it.

Alvin slipped out of the bed and strapped up his boots, knowing this would be his opportunity to finally pin something on House Travis. It would only take a few minutes to contact and prepare Zeljko—who had taken up a job as an apprentice for the gardener at the same time Alvin was hired—and find a way to intercept the bird before she left the property. 

Zeljko was still awake and sweeping the walkways around the estate when Alvin found him.

“It’s a nice night,” said Alvin conversationally, in case anyone overheard.

Zeljko grunted. For weeks, they pretended to have little interest in one another, and they seldom spoke. In reaching out then, Alvin had signaled to Zeljko to make their escape preparations.

“Goodnight,” said Zeljko curtly, putting away his broom in the gardening shed.

“Night.”

Alvin climbed the side of the carriage house and watched Aurignac’s window. It was still open, meaning the response had yet to be sent. 

Most of the servants and other residents had long since gone to bed, but Aurignac stayed up late with the anticipation of a reward from his “Julio”. He would certainly get a surprise from his valet that night, but it wouldn’t be the treat he hoped for.

Alvin waited until he saw Aurignac’s cupped hands out the window, and a few seconds later, the sylphjay flew from his palms. Not wanting her to get away, Alvin let out the whistle Aurignac often used to summon her. The distinct and familiar noise drew her down to his waiting arm.

Unfortunately, it caught Aurignac’s attention as well. He popped his head out of the window, but Alvin already had the bird in his possession. He unsecured the fastenings at her leg and released her into the night. 

“Julio! What are you doing?”

Alvin didn’t answer. Taking the letter out of the envelope and unfolding it, he skimmed over the contents. It indeed offered savory content sure to displease House Fenn and guarantee Gilland good graces with Nachtigal. 

Leaping to the ground, Alvin waved up at Aurignac.

“Thanks!”

“You cheeky—!” The man in the window disappeared, and Alvin wished his luck had allowed him more time to retreat. No doubt Aurignac was summoning every capable personnel stationed within the manor. The hounds would be at Alvin’s feet if he did not hurry. 

With the letter secure in his coat pocket, he cut his way through the streets of Lalla Travis. He slowed his pace at the edge of town, believing that he might have shaken his pursuers.

He should have known better. House Travis owned several capable hounds, and it wouldn’t be hard for someone to rummage around his tiny bedroom in the servants’ quarters to find a scrap of his clothing and scent him. By the time the street faded away to a dirt path outside of town and the trees rose up at either side of him, he could hear the sound of barking and the calls of his pursuers. 

“This way! Don’t let him get away!”

Alvin zigzagged between the trees in an effort to keep ahead of them. The cliff came into view, the stream of water as loud as the sound of his gasps for breath. 

Alvin paused at the edge. Zeljko’s boat was nowhere to be seen below. He would have to buy some time and hope his partner arrived before he was forced to plunge into the flowing river beneath. 

Several pursuers emerged from the trees.

“You’re a naughty boy, Julio,” said Aurignac, taking his place at the front of the group. His voice was singed with fury. “There are better ways to catch my attention, but you’ve gone too far.”

“You’ve misunderstood something,” said Alvin. “I don’t know what you’ve imagined between us, but it was never reciprocal.”

“What? I know you’ve been making eyes at me this entire time.”

Alvin’s cold expression only stoked more heat from Aurignac’s fiery temper. Out of Alvin’s peripheral vision, no boat had come up the river from Lalla Travis. More time would have to be wasted.

“It was all part of my plan, to get my hands on this.” Alvin extracted the letter from his pocket and gave it a little wave.

“Do you even know what’s in that letter, Julio?” scoffed Aurignac, but there was a hint of concern in his body language. If the pursuit hadn’t been enough, that alone would’ve told Alvin the importance of its contents.

“Yes. This is a secret missive to House Banya, proposing a secret alliance against House Fenn. Such an alliance could change the course of history.” Intercepting the letter would do much the same, in a different direction.

“Are you one of Nachtigal’s spies?” spat Aurignac. 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to use the king’s name so casually?”

“Are you playing dumb? Oh well, I’ll extract the details from you—I’ll interrogate your body thoroughly.” Aurignac smirked, belying his sadistic nature. With a quick hand gesture, he motioned his group forward. The men raised their weapons. The dogs bared their teeth.

The rocks and the river below were starting to look like a better alternative to what Alvin faced on that cliff edge. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. 

“I’m scared,” said Alvin, only for Aurignac’s benefit.

“You’re very unfortunate to have fled this direction. You’re trapped. The rapids will swallow you up if you fall.”

“We don’t know that unless we try.” 

“What?” Aurignac hesitated, which gave Alvin the opening he needed to turn away from him.

“I bid you and our short but sweet romance farewell!” 

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks.” Alvin stepped over the edge and let himself plummet downward toward the water. A scream ripped from his throat, but the plunge ended when he hit his side on a hard, flat surface. When he looked up, lanterns lit the cliff’s edge, and he got a good view of Aurignac’s shocked face.

Alvin stood up, dusting off his pants before he waved at all of them in wide gestures with his entire arm. 

“Damn it, he had an accomplice?”

“That’s the young man who was recently hired as an apprentice gardener, My Lord.”

“Damn you, Julio, you planned this?!”

Any illusions Aurignac might have held that Julio’s flirtations with him were serious disappeared at that moment. As the river carried the boat further and further downstream, Aurignac’s angry words echoed through the countryside.

“You’re just in time,” said Alvin, turning to Zeljko. “I was running out of ways to buy time. They nearly caught me.”

“It was a close call,” agreed Zeljko, rowing. Even in the retreating light, Alvin could see his smile. “We make a good team. How’d it go?”

“Smoothly, of course,” said Alvin. “Aurignac can’t resist a pretty face.” He winked as he tucked the letter back into his jacket pocket.

They were gaining distance from Aurignac by then, and it was with ease that the two boys could laugh at fate with the same howl any person might release when swooping out of harm’s way at the perfect second. 

“Good job, Alvin. I’m sure the boss will praise you.” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice…” The joy from Alvin’s success evaporated. It would be a victory celebrated no further than their boat. Gilland expected him to complete his jobs, but he rarely complimented him for it.

“After this, we’ve earned a break. What do you plan to do with that time?”

“Don’t ask me.” Alvin smiled wearily. “Mind if I take a nap? That was exhausting.”

“You sound like an old man!” Zeljko let out a laugh, picking up on Alvin’s signals to lighten the atmosphere. “Fine, take a nap. Enjoy the cruise.”

“Thanks.” Alvin settled into the boat with a yawn, making himself as comfortable as possible. The boat rocked roughly, and the rapids rushed around their small vessel, but it was just the right ambience needed to lull him to sleep.


End file.
